


When House Met the Wilson Wives

by hwshipper



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-28
Updated: 2007-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hwshipper/pseuds/hwshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each of the Wilson wives meets House for the first time. House reacts to Wilson afterwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When House Met the Wilson Wives

**Author's Note:**

> Plot bunny from the guys on the Wilson thread at [HHOW](http://houseofwhining.com/viewtopic.php?p=28249#28249), who observed that Wilson rarely seems able to share his attention when he's with House, and then imagined House and Wilson arguing about something and one of the wives there being completely ignored.  
> **BETA****:** the brilliant [](http://bornbeautiful.livejournal.com/profile)[**bornbeautiful**](http://bornbeautiful.livejournal.com/) 

_1\. Catherine_   
    
Catherine was pleased but also a little nervous to be meeting James's new friend. Of course she was very happy he'd made a friend—so quickly after coming to med school in New York, on his own, not knowing anyone. But from what she'd heard about Greg House, he sounded... eccentric, to say the least.   
    
"Here he is," Wilson said brightly, as a man walked into the bar. Catherine looked up with interest. She saw a tall, stubbled man with piercing blue eyes and a long stride, wearing jeans, sneakers and a leather jacket. He plumped himself down at their table.   
    
"House, this is Catherine: Cath, meet Greg House." Wilson was on his feet. "Get you a drink, House?"   
    
"Just a Coke," said House. Wilson raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Big game tonight. Remember?" House added.   
    
Wilson nodded, and said to Catherine by way of explanation, "House plays lacrosse." Wilson went off to the bar.   
    
House turned his gaze on Catherine, and she felt his eyes raking her up and down.   
    
"It's very nice to meet you at last," she said politely. "James has told me so much about you." This was kind of true. House loomed large in everything James related to her about his new life at Columbia, but she wasn't sure she actually knew much about House other than he was a resident at the hospital and a few years older than James.   
    
"So, you're down from Canada for the weekend?" House said, his tone not exactly disinterested but not expressing much curiosity either. She noticed that he was, however, watching her very carefully.   
    
"That's right," she said, smiling, trying to be friendly. "I got here last night, have to leave tomorrow. I've got to be back for a lecture tomorrow afternoon."   
    
"And you're doing a course in ... event … planning?" House's tone was skeptical, but she was used to that reaction from most people. "What sort of events do you want to end up organizing—parties, wedding?"   
    
"Both. All sorts." Catherine fingered her engagement ring self-consciously. "Starting with my own wedding."   
    
"Ah." House shut his eyes briefly, then peered out from under half-closed eyelids. "So what's the plan—you finish the course in a few months time, then move down here and start planning your wedding?"   
    
"That's right," Catherine confirmed. She noticed the lack of congratulations. She realized that House hadn't even said _pleased to meet you_.   
    
Wilson returned from the bar with House's Coke, sat down, and House immediately swiveled round to face him. "Wilson. Guess which department head was seen making out with her departmental secretary in the car park last night."   
    
"Not... the head of OB-GYN," Wilson said, wide-eyed, and he and House conversed agog for the next few minutes about people at the hospital Catherine didn't know and had never heard of. She tried to look as if she was following, nodding periodically, and putting in the odd meaningless word. Occasionally Wilson looked at her and smiled encouragingly, but House barely flicked his eyes in her direction. She started to feel a little annoyed at Wilson, and increasingly aggravated at House. She thought he was being very rude.    
    
Eventually House glanced at his watch. "I have to go in a minute. Need to go and get my stuff and change before the big game." He drained his glass and looked at Wilson. "I thought you were coming to watch?"   
    
Wilson shook his head. "That was before I knew Cath was coming down this weekend."   
    
"You could still come watch," House pursued.   
    
"We've got dinner plans, sorry," Wilson said, smiling, firm.   
    
"Oh, well, if you've got your event all planned out." House fixed his gaze on Catherine.   
    
Catherine looked back into his eyes, and realized that House was thinking—_expecting,_ even—that she might back down, and say hey, let's go to the game instead. She felt a small flame of anger start to burn. She'd flown down from Canada to see James for the first time in two months. She hadn't come all this way to go to a lacrosse match in the freezing cold and dark, to watch someone play who she had only just met, and who showed no signs of liking her whatsoever. The arrogant son-of-a-bitch. She met his gaze and gave him a small glare.   
    
House broke eye contact and shrugged. He picked up Wilson's glass of beer, took a gulp, and stood up to go. "See you tomorrow, Wilson." He looked at Catherine. "Enjoy dinner." His tone was ever so slightly mocking.   
    
Many months later, Catherine would look back on this first meeting and think she'd called House from the start. She just hadn't been able to do anything about it.   
    
***   
    
The next morning, House was walking down a hospital corridor on his way to the coffee machine when Wilson appeared beside him.   
    
"Hey, House, how was the game last night?" Wilson fell into step with him. "I hear you won?"   
    
"Yeah, we kicked ass," House said shortly. He was still a little sore that Wilson had missed it. He looked at Wilson. "And how was your boring dinner with your boring fiancée?"   
 

_"House,"_ Wilson admonished.   
    
"Oh come on." House wasn't going to apologize for speaking his mind. And it had been a great game.   
    
"We don't see each other very often," Wilson made the obvious excuse.   
    
"And I guess you gotta get laid when you do," House rolled his eyes. Wilson didn't reply, but smiled. House took this as assent, flashed a small grin, and added, "Just think, you could have been watching me get hot and sweaty instead."   
    
Wilson grinned back. "Yeah. But a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush."    
    
"You're messing with me." House stopped by the coffee machine. Wilson stopped next to him, and they stood close together. "You little minx."   
    
"I can watch you get hot and sweaty any time," Wilson said gently, into House's ear, and walked away.   
    
***   
 

_2\. Bonnie_   
    
"There he is," Wilson said, and waved across the restaurant. Bonnie looked, and saw a man, standing just inside the entrance, looking around, hot and bothered, his brow furrowed. He saw Wilson and headed towards them. As he approached, Bonnie thought she'd never seen such brilliant blue eyes.    
    
"Hey, House," Wilson said, as the man dropped into the chair next to Bonnie. "This is Bonnie; Bonnie, this is Greg House."   
    
"Pleased to meet you, Greg," Bonnie said immediately, and held out her hand.   
    
House glared at her, and shook her hand with an air of reluctance. She was surprised by his reaction, but tried not to show her surprise. Meeting James's best friend was not the most important thing that she'd come here to do. She'd come up to Boston from New York for a night to go to the big Impressionist exhibition on at the moment with James, and James had been keen for her to meet his friend who lived in the area. She was staying in a hotel; James was staying with House, but she had hopes she could persuade James to come back to her hotel instead.   
    
"So you're Wilson's gallery-going pal," House said, sounding—not quite hostile, but close. Wilson was distracted, trying to summon a waiter to their table.   
    
"That's me," Bonnie said brightly. _But not for much longer,_ she hoped; she wanted to be more, much more. "And you're his Boston buddy."   
    
"Humph." House apparently didn't like being categorized like that. He grabbed the open bottle of wine on the table and sloshed a generous amount into a glass.   
    
"I'm fucking pissed off," he said bluntly, to Wilson.   
    
Bonnie didn't know how to react. Wilson stopped looking for non-existent waiters and focused on House. "What is it, the girlfriend or the job?"   
    
"Both coming at me from both sides at once."  House swigged a mouthful of wine.   
    
House and Wilson started to talk. Bonnie gleaned from the conversation that apparently House had a girlfriend who was an investment banker (who Wilson had obviously met, and who was evidently hot), but she was on the verge of dumping him in favor of going back to her ex-wanker-banker-boyfriend. Also, in other news, House had just nearly killed a patient at the hospital he worked at, by trying an experimental treatment without permission, and if the patient died he was likely to get fired.   
    
Wilson listened, making some sympathetic noises and a few critical comments and suggestions. Bonnie looked back and forth from House to Wilson, and thought it was as if a switch had been thrown, or a button pressed, and all the positive energy and emotional support that Wilson had been funneling towards her five minutes before had suddenly been directed towards House.  
    
House's cell phone beeped. He looked at the incoming text and groaned. "Girlfriend summons. Damnit, she _knows_ I'm having dinner with you. She's testing me. Do I go?"   
    
Wilson grinned. "Dinner versus hot girlfriend, surely no question there."   
    
House's pager went off. He looked at it and groaned again. "Fuck. Patient relapse. Job or hot girlfriend? That's not so easy."   
    
"Go see the patient," Wilson said, his tone serious now. "It's too soon since you last got fired."   
    
House nodded, grabbed his glass of wine, and drained it before leaving. Bonnie was pleased to see House go. Partly because she instinctively didn't like or trust him; partly because she had plans for James this evening, and she thought it was going to be easier without having House around.   
    
Many weeks in the future, she realized that _everything_ was easier when House wasn't around. Unfortunately he seemed to be around more often than not.    
    
***   
    
House got home around ten the following morning, exhausted and hollow-eyed. He found Wilson lounging on his couch.   
    
"What _did _the hot girlfriend do to you?" Wilson exclaimed, with a raised eyebrow.   
    
"I wish. She dumped me by text sometime around 3 AM, I think." House slumped on the couch next to Wilson. "I've been up keeping this damned patient alive all night."   
    
"The patient's OK?"   
    
"Yeah. I've got a written warning—my final written warning —but I don't think I'll be fired." House pulled an envelope out of his inside jacket pocket. "Not this week, anyway."   
    
"Good." Wilson looked relieved.   
    
"You have a nice evening with Jersey Girl?" House asked, distracted by reading his letter.   
    
"Uh, yeah. Very nice."    
    
House wasn't quite as tired and distracted as Wilson seemed to be hoping. House threw the letter down on a side table and shrugged his jacket off his shoulders. "Yeah? Don't tell me you ended up fucking her."   
    
Wilson didn't reply; House looked at him sharply then grinned wolfishly. "I see.  Well you know what I'm going to say now."   
    
"_'I told you so_.'" Wilson sighed. "Alright already, I know."   
    
"What happened to _we're just friends? Neither of us wants a relationship right now? Too soon since my divorce? Too soon since she left her abusive boyfriend?" _House mimicked Wilson's voice. He looked at Wilson's clothes. "You've only just got back here this morning, haven't you?"   
    
"So sue me." Wilson said defensively. "I wasn't _planning_ this. We had dinner, it was very nice, I walked her back to her hotel, she asked me up for coffee—"   
    
"Could you be any more clichéd?"   
    
"Fuck off."   
    
House eased up; he was more amused than mad. "So you got yourself a girlfriend just as I lost mine. Damn shame, now we can't double date."   
    
Wilson shuddered slightly, but couldn't help but smile. House looped an arm round Wilson's shoulders. Wilson leaned into the crook of House's arm.  
    
"I'm tired and I'm going to bed." House decided. "Joining me?"   
    
Wilson nodded and stood up to follow House into the bedroom.   
    
***   
 

_3\. Julie_   
    
"Very happy to meet you, Julie," Cuddy said warmly, shaking Julie's hand. "I hope we'll be seeing more of you around in future."   
    
Cuddy moved away into the crowd, circulating, being the good Dean of Medicine. Wilson reached for Julie's hand and gave it a squeeze. "There, meeting the boss wasn't too bad, was it?"   
    
"She's very nice," Julie agreed. They were at a fundraiser event at Princeton-Plainsboro. Julie had been apprehensive at the thought of meeting all James's work colleagues in one go, but it had all gone very well so far. She'd met James about six months ago when coming out of her divorce; they'd been dating seriously the last few months. She hadn't met House, the best friend, in that time, and this situation had become progressively more odd. She was sure that James had purposely been avoiding her meeting House, and she was curious as to why this might be.     
    
"I spy House," Wilson said, peering across the crowded hospital foyer. "Are you ready?"   
    
"Sure." How bad could it be? Surely any friend of James's would be nice.   
    
She followed Wilson across the room to where a distinctly grumpy-looking man was sitting at a table. A polished wooden cane with a silver handle was propped up against his chair. He looked as if he hadn't shaved for a few days, and although he was wearing a stylish dinner jacket, he somehow managed to make it look scruffy. His bow tie was untied and dangled loose around his neck.   
   
He looked up as they approached. His startling blue eyes latched onto her like a magnet, and swept swiftly up and down. She felt a little uncomfortable.   
    
Wilson sat down at the table and Julie did the same. They were carrying plates of snacks from the buffet, and put them down on the table.   
    
"Hey, House; this is Julie," Wilson performed the introductions. "Julie—Greg House."   
    
"Hello," Julie said brightly. "It's nice to meet you at last."   
    
House looked at Julie and said in an acerbic tone, "You remind me of someone. Actually you remind me of two people."  
 

_"House,"_ Wilson said warningly.   
    
Julie supposed House was referring to James's two ex-wives. She'd seen pictures, she knew they were both small and brunette, and she was small and brunette too. Several people (her mother, in particular) were suspicious of James for having been married twice before. Julie wasn't bothered, as both marriages were many years in the past, and she liked to think of them as James's youthful mistakes. It would be different with her.   
    
She was a little unnerved, however, by House's comment. She hadn't met anyone before who had known both of James's ex-wives. Of course House had known James a long time, she wasn't sure exactly how long.   
    
House reached out and grabbed a handful of peanuts from Wilson's plate. "I'm only here for the poker," House said to Wilson, and scowled. "Cuddy promised me there'd be poker. Where the hell is it?"   
    
"It's being set up over there." Wilson nodded across the room. "House, while you're waiting for the poker would it really kill you to circulate a bit, say hi to a few donors?"   
    
"My leg hurts," House said flatly. "And Cuddy said I just had to show up, so she could point at me occasionally."   
    
Julie saw Wilson's face crease in frustration. "Sure, do the bare minimum. You're supposed to be a department head, for Christ's sake House, why can't you act like one?"   
    
And suddenly they were arguing, and Julie was left completely surprised, cut out of the conversation, and with no way in. She didn't know what to make of it. _This _was James's best and oldest friend—this grouchy unpleasant man? She was amazed.   
    
"And would it really be such a burden to do clinic duty?" Wilson said, his tone full of disappointment. "Three years it's been now. Don't you think one more doctor on the roster would really help the rest of us?"   
    
"Wilson, you seem to be confusing me with someone who gives a damn." House paused. "Anyway, I figure Cuddy's guilt level is good enough to get me off clinic for at least another three years."   
    
Wilson threw up his hands. "I give up. You're impossible. And you can't even be bothered to make the effort to do up that bow tie."   
    
House scowled. "That's _your _fault, giving me one of these things you have to tie up. I told you you should've got me one of those ready-tied clip-on ones."   
    
Wilson rolled his eyes. "No, I should not."  He leaned forward. "Let me—no, I can't do this from the front." Wilson got up and went and stood behind House, reaching round House's neck for the ends of the bow tie.   
    
And suddenly, just as it started, the argument seemed to be over. Julie watched as Wilson deftly tied House's tie into a bow, his fingers nimble, just barely brushing the side of House's neck. Wilson's chin hovered above House's head and skimmed the top of House's hair. House didn't say anything, but stayed still. Abruptly House glanced at Julie for the first time since she'd sat down—a self-satisfied look, aloof and smug. Julie stared back at him, and saw a selfish, egotistical bastard intent on power play.   
    
She decided there and then that she wasn't disposed to like Greg House very much. Clearly she would have to put up with him, as James apparently saw something in him that she couldn't. But she could tell it wouldn't be a pleasure.   
    
***   
    
A few hours later, House was walking round his office when Wilson poked his head round the door. "Hey, House. Abandoned the poker?"   
    
"No competition worth the effort. Abandoned your dull little girlfriend?" House propped his cane up against his desk and picked up a book he wanted to take home. "You need to watch her."   
    
"She's chatting to Brenda." Wilson came inside and shut the door behind him. "And I need to watch her because—?"   
    
"Because she's got that look in her eye," House said ominously. "She's waiting to walk down the aisle with you."   
    
Wilson snorted. "We've only been going out a few months. I've got no intention—"   
    
"You never do, do you?" House put the book down and turned to face Wilson.   
    
Wilson walked up to House, sighed, then reached out and pulled gently at House's bow tie. "You know perfectly well how to tie one of these, don't you?"   
    
"Don't you make _me_ out to be the master manipulator here," House said immediately. "_You_ knew perfectly well that _I_ know how to tie one of these."  
    
Wilson grinned in acknowledgement. "I guess I just wanted to put my hands round your neck. It was that or throttle you."   
    
"I should be the one throttling you," House said gruffly, and in answer Wilson slid his arms round House's neck and pulled him close.   
    
END  
 


End file.
